Page 140 of Moon Cursed

“Try again.”

He stops the dance. “Aw, nuts.”

“You’ll get cake, but not only cake.”

“Toast,” he says after a second of hesitation. “With butter.”

Okay, that’s easy. A slice of toast.

“Go sit down. I’ll make it.”

“You make cakes?” he asks, starting to dance again.

Yeah, this kid seriously doesn’t need the sugar.

Probably a mistake to give him a whole cupcake. They’re not exactly small.

I put four slices of the home-baked bread in the toaster, and I grab the butter from the fridge.

The cakes in the clear plastic container on the counter are all different sizes and have different colored frosting. If he got the chance to choose, he’d probably pick the massive chocolate frosted one. I open the lid and take out a smaller chocolate frosted one. It’s probably still too much, but I tell myself the toast makes up for the sugar.

I close the container. The cakes smell good, but it’s too early for that. I’m only intending to eat toast because I get the feeling it’ll encourage him to eat his.

“Milk, or apple juice?” I ask him.

“Milk, please,” he says.

I get the milk out and pour some into a glass.

The toast pops up, golden brown. I grab plates and start buttering toast.

I cut it into triangles and give the kid two slices with his milk.

“You’ll get the cake once you’ve eaten the toast,” I tell him when he pulls a disappointed face.

“Aw…” he mumbles, before he starts eating. “Mmm.”

The bread is good. Once you’ve had home-baked it’s kind of hard to go back to store bought.

We’re spoiled with Ivy and Vi around, and all of us know it.

He demolishes his toast before I’ve finished savoring my first slice.

Picks up his milk and sinks half of that. Then his eyes flash golden.

I know what’s coming before it comes out of his mouth.

“Caaake,” he growls.

“A please could be nice,” I murmur, as I put my slice down and get up to get the cake.

“Please,” he says, sweetly, his little teeth sharp in his mouth.

I put the cake down in front of him. He rips the wrapper off and eats it in three big messy bites.

Crumbs land on his plate and there’s a smear of frosting left at the corner of his mouth.

I hand him a napkin. He takes the hint after he guzzles down the last of the milk.

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